


Monkeyboy

by sister_wolf



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-23
Updated: 2005-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kon grinned, striking a muscle-man pose. "Little souvenir from an adventure in the jungle. The chicks'll be all <em>over</em> me, man."  Other than a leopard skin loincloth and a necklace of fangs, Kon was completely and utterly <em>naked</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monkeyboy

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the Superboy annual from 1997.

"Looking _good_ , Rob. I like the dress."

Tim winced. It just figured that he'd run into Kon on his way to the Halloween party, even though he'd deliberately taken the most circuitous, rarely-used route to get there. The _costume_ party, which they were, against his objections, holding in the old ballroom, despite the fact that that wing of the building _still_ wasn't completely structurally sound after the _last_ fight.

To make matters worse, Cassie had blackmailed him into wearing the most 'un-Robin-ish' costume she could think of. At least she'd stopped short of making him wear an _actual_ dress. Though, honestly, the lack of a mask was making him feel a lot more exposed than just wearing a bed sheet wrapped toga-style. "It's not a dress, it's a toga, Kon, and-- What are you _wearing_?"

Kon grinned, striking a muscle-man pose. "Little souvenir from an adventure in the jungle. The chicks'll be all _over_ me, man."

Other than a leopard skin loincloth and a necklace of fangs, Kon was completely and utterly _naked_. Tim swallowed hard and revised his opinion of the much-hated toga-- if it could hide his inappropriate Kon-caused erections, he'd consider wearing one _all the time_.

"Is that a leopard skin?" Safer to ask that than the most burning question on his mind, which was whether Kon's skin was as hot and smooth as it looked. Jesus. Kon had _no_ body hair. Was that a Kryptonian thing?

"Yep. Don't freak out, _I_ didn't kill it. The Neanderthal guys gave it to me. Before we fought the evil honeys on pterodactyls and the mud men and the ugly dinosaur dude."

Tim blinked. The scary part was that he was pretty sure Kon wasn't making any of that up. "Pterodactyls?"

"Sure, y'know, they're big flappy lizard things that fly. Kinda like bats, only waaaaaaay bigger." Kon spread his hands out illustratively.

"Actually, bats are mammals--" Tim shook his head. He'd suspect that Kon's ability to distract him was based on some sort of charm power, if he didn't know better. "That's not the point. What were you doing in a jungle with dinosaurs?"

"Well, that's a long story, and I wasn't really conscious for all of it-- well, I mean, I was _awake_ , but I wasn't really having a deep meaningful relationship with reality, if ya know what I mean."

Tim crossed his arms under his-- over his toga, and gave Kon a patient look.

"I was, uh--" Kon scratched his head and looked uncomfortable. "I kinda got hit over the head and, um, I started thinking I was Tarzan or something. I totally lost my memory and I was talking like 'Me Jane, you Tarzan.'"

"Me Tarzan, you Jane," Tim corrected.

"No, seriously, me Jane, you Tarzan! I got it all mixed up. Roxy wouldn't stop making fun of me for _months_. Anyway, I defeated the monster, rescued the girls, remembered that I wasn't Tarzan, and ended up with this swanky loincloth and a great story. Chicks dig it." Kon smirked and leaned against a support beam. There was an ominous _crack_ from above and Tim watched in horror as part of the wall collapsed onto Kon.

"Kon!" Tim leaped forward and started scrabbling at the debris, trying to find Kon under the mound of plaster and broken support beams. Kon's tactile TK _should_ have protected him-- unless he'd been too surprised to bring it up in time.

The pile shifted suddenly, and Tim was barely able to scramble clear before Kon shoved the debris away from himself with a wave of TK. "Ungh," Kon mumbled, shaking plaster dust out of his hair. He rubbed the back of his head, wincing, then pulled his hand away from his head and frowned at the blood on his fingers.

"Kon. Are you okay?"

Kon shook his head groggily and squinted at Tim. "Kon?"

"Stay there and try not to move, okay? We need to get you medical assistance and I don't have my communicator on me." Tim got two strides away before something-- Kon's TK, he thought-- grabbed him around the waist and dragged him backwards.

"Hmmm," Kon mumbled, nuzzling Tim's head. His back was plastered against Kon's body and Kon was _sniffing_ his hair. Tim twitched in an instinctive move to grab a weapon, but, dammit, he didn't _have_ any weapons on him, because of the goddamned _toga_.

"Kon, this isn't funny. You have a head injury and you need medical help-- awk!" Tim squeaked in an embarrassingly high register as Kon picked him up and threw him, belly-down, over Kon's shoulder.

Tim tried for a nerve-strike and nearly injured himself on Kon's TK aura. This was the part about working with metas that really sucked-- without his weapons and tools, there was virtually nothing he could do in certain situations. Like, for instance, when he was being abducted by a guy with tactile telekinesis.

His stomach attempted to relocate itself somewhere around his esophagus. Great-- they were flying. "Okay, ha ha, very funny. Listen, I appreciate the subtleties of a good practical joke as much as the next guy-- that would be why I'm wearing this freaking toga, for one thing-- and don't think I'm not planning my revenge on you and Bart for leaving me hanging out to dry with Cassie-- but this has really, seriously, gone far enough. You need to have your head looked at-- and not in the thinking you're Tarzan sense, either-- and I need to get the hell out of this toga." Tim paused, waiting for Kon to say something. Hmmm. That was weird-- Kon hadn't interrupted him, even once. Not that he was nearly as bad about interrupting as Bart was, but... Kon actually hadn't said a word (other than repeating his name) since he'd been hit over the head.

The rhythm of Kon's flying changed. It felt like he was-- swooping? Tim craned his head to the side and got a dizzying view of a forest, passing by in a series of parabolas. As if he were on a line-- oh, right. As if he were swinging from _jungle vines_. Tim closed his eyes and worked on not losing his lunch. Suddenly, he felt really bad for all the people he'd carried in exactly this way over the years. Well, except that normally, he'd been saving them from certain death, not abducting them.

And they were landing, finally. Tim stumbled and almost fell as Kon put him back on his feet again. Kon's TK folded around him like a warm, insistent blanket, holding him up, and Tim gritted his teeth and focused on not screaming at Kon. He was becoming increasingly sure that this wasn't actually a case of Kon springing a practical joke on him.

"Okay, you can let me go now." They appeared to be on a ledge on the face of a limestone outcropping, in front of a cave entrance. Tim eyed it distrustfully, hoping that there weren't any bears or other large predators hiding inside it. The last thing they needed was for _Tarzan_ here to get into a brawl with the local wildlife.

Kon's TK let him go with an almost palpable sense of reluctance. Tim took a few steps back-- enough that he could keep both Kon and the cave entrance in his line of sight-- and sighed, exasperated, as Kon simply moved closer to him. Along with the majority of his social skills, Kon had apparently lost any understanding of the concept of a personal bubble.

Tim put a hand against Kon's shoulder and shoved-- and managed to move _himself_ back a few inches. Goddammit. He really hated having Kon looming over him-- bad enough that he was shorter than the majority of the superhero community, but it was times like this that he _really_ resented Kon's extra six inches of height. Sure, he'd been trained to intimidate guys who could benchpress him one-handed, but-- normally those guys weren't nuzzling his ear and making happy "mmmm" noises. Tim immediately repressed a brief, horrifying vision of Killer Croc doing just that. He was pretty sure-- pretty _damned_ sure-- that Kon didn't want to eat him... well. Not in _that_ sense, anyhow.

Not that he'd ever thought that Kon wanted to eat him in the _other_ sense before, but there were really only so many ways to interpret someone's tongue in one's ear. Tim tried and failed to keep from tipping his head to the side so that Kon could get a better angle. No, he needed to stop this-- Kon wouldn't be doing this if he were in his right mind. But jesus, that was a lot of warm, soft Kon-skin to be pressed up against and _not_ touch. Tim spread his hands across Kon's chest, reasoning to himself that he was just trying to push Kon away, and had his good intentions immediately derailed by the feeling of Kon's moan rumbling through his chest.

And suddenly there were Kon-hands-- felt like twelve of them, but Tim was pretty sure that was just the tactile TK-- sliding under the thin cotton of his toga. "Whoah, hey, Kon," he said weakly. Firming his voice, he ordered, "Hands, Kon. Hands out of the toga."

Kon looked at him blankly. "Hands?"

"Yeah, these." Tim waved his in illustration. "Hands where I can see them."

Kon's forehead wrinkled, with that look of Kon-confusion that either made Tim want to hit him or-- actually, this was the first time that _particular_ look had made Tim want to fuck him. "Hands," he repeated, capturing Tim's with his. Bending his head and giving Tim a mischievous look, Kon mumbled, "Hands," as he licked a slow circle at the center of both of Tim's palms.

This was really, seriously unfair. His best friend-- who he lusted after in an entirely non-platonic way-- was doing his level best to seduce him, and he had to resist, because Kon wouldn't be doing this if he were thinking clearly. Tim's life sucked.

Speaking of sucking-- Tim closed his eyes and whimpered as wet, wet heat and suction closed around three of his fingers. Then he had to open them, because he couldn't _not_ see Kon with Tim's fingers in his mouth, eyes closed in concentration as he traced Tim's fingertips with his tongue. "Oh, hell..."

Kon opened his eyes and grinned at him. He let Tim's fingers go with one last, long suck, and turned his attention to Tim's wrists. "Hands?" he asked, tracing the veins in Tim's wrists with his tongue.

"No, wrists..." Tim dragged in a deep breath, steadying himself. He slipped his wrists from Kon's grip and backed up a few more steps. "No, Kon," he said as firmly as he could.

Kon looked woebegone. "Hands?"

"Oh, _fuck_ this." Tim resisted the urge to tear his hair out by the roots, barely.

"Fuck." Kon beamed, thrilled with this new addition to his vocabulary. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck."

"No fuck! I mean, no fucking!" It was like dealing with a toddler. An oversexed toddler, and Tim was going to stop thinking about that right now, because he really didn't want to think too much about the fact that, in actual years lived, Kon pretty much _was_ a toddler.

"No?" Kon asked sadly. He sat down on the rock ledge, shoulders drooping. "No..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake--" Tim sat down next to him, eyeing Kon's unhappy expression. Tentatively, he reached out a hand and rested it on Kon's shoulder. "Here. Hand. _No licking_. Hand."

Kon nuzzled his hand, rubbing his cheek against the back of it like a cat. "Hands. Hand?" he asked tentatively, curling up on his side with his head in Tim's lap, holding Tim's hand against his face with both of his.

Tim stared down at him, nonplussed. "Okaaaaay..." He sighed, stroking Kon's hair with his free hand. "Kon... this is weird. Even for you. And you're going to want to kill me when you get your sanity back. But I promise you, I will never, ever tell Superman about any of this. As long as you promise not to breathe a word of this around Batman." At some point, Kon had rolled onto his back, and now he stared up at Tim with the patented wrinkled brow of Kon-confusion. "It's okay, Kon. Hand." Tim traced the wrinkle between Kon's eyebrows. Kon's eyes fluttered closed.

"This is just typical, really. You're finally trying to seduce _me_ , as opposed to every woman we encounter-- hell, women, men, inanimate objects, _farm animals_ \--" Kon twitched. Carding his fingers through Kon's hair, Tim admitted, "Okay, so that's unfair. No farm animals. And very few inanimate objects, though I have my suspicions about the supercycle." Tim snorted. Kon's eyes opened, bright blue and curious, and he reached up a hand to stroke Tim's cheek. Tim sighed and leaned into it, adding, "So _finally_ , you're trying your best to get me naked, and I have to say no, because you're not in your right mind. Really, this is just typical. Can't get what I want, and when I _can_ get it, I can't anyway."

"What if you could?"

Tim froze in horror, staring down at Kon.

"I mean, what if you could? Would you?" Kon half-winced, half-smiled up at him. "Cause, dude, I'd have offered, if I thought there was half a chance of it not fucking up _everything_."

"What--" Tim burst to his feet. Kon's head hit the ledge with an audible thump. "Was that all just a practical joke? You turn into _Tarzan_ \-- jesus, I'm gullible. World's second greatest detective my _ass_ ," Tim growled, pacing the length of the ledge.

"No, wait, Rob-- I didn't, I wasn't--" Kon tried to grab Tim's shoulder, and only his TK aura saved him from a black eye. "Robin, c'mon, listen to me! Are we friends? Are we fucking _friends_?"

Tim stilled sudenly, his back to Kon. He turned his head slightly. "I don't know, Kon. You tell me."

"Despite the fact that I don't know what your real _name_ is, you paranoid little freak, _yes_ , I consider you to be a friend. My _best_ friend, you asshole. And I thought that you felt the same way."

Tim winced, looking down. He didn't _want_ to lie to everyone. At least Batman had finally given in and let him show them his face. Even if he did still forget to take off the mask around them unless specifically reminded to. "You _are_ my best friend, Kon."

"Okay. Um. Are you gonna punch me in the face again if I touch you?" Kon asked, pausing with his hand a few inches away from Tim's shoulder.

"No." He had better self-control than this, dammit.

"Ohhhh-kay." Kon's hand settled tentatively on Tim's shoulder. "Rob, I swear, I was totally Tarzaning until you said 'Superman.' I mean, I remember what I did, and what I said, I just didn't have any control over it, and-- man, I sounded like an _idiot_ , didn't I."

"It was sort of... endearing." Interesting-- he could actually feel the heat of Kon's blush from several inches away.

"Uh, yeah. God, I'm a doofus." Kon's thumb started to rub half-circles at the base of Tim's neck. "And, yeah, I let you believe that I was still Tarzaned while you said all that, and that was wrong, but you never-- you never say anything about how you feel, and it's kinda-- it's _scary_ to have to guess around you, man."

"I-- okay." He couldn't honestly say that he wouldn't have done the same, had their positions been reversed.

"Okay?" Kon tugged on his shoulder gently until Tim turned around to face him. "Okay, um. In what sense?"

Tim closed his eyes, forgetting that he wasn't wearing the mask. Ridiculous-- Kon was two scraps of leopard skin away from being naked, and Tim was wearing a damned _bed sheet_ , but he felt more _naked_ without the mask-- and, oh. Kon had asked a question. "In the sense of--" See, _this_ was why all his relationships ended in mutual confusion, because he couldn't express his emotions worth a damn.

"Of..." Kon prompted. His hair was falling in his eyes. Tim's hand tingled with the sense-memory of exactly how soft and silky Kon's hair felt against his palm.

"Hand," Tim said, suddenly inspired. He reached up and rubbed his thumb against the frown-wrinkle between Kon's eyes, threading his fingers into the silky mess of Kon's hair. "Hand."

"Ohhhhhh." Kon smiled with his whole body, open and honest in a way that Tim couldn't imagine being. "And here I was _joking_ about needing a Robin-to-English dictionary..."

"Very funny."

Kon kissed with his eyes closed, and his lips were as soft as they looked, moving gently against Tim's until he coaxed them to open. He traced Tim's bottom lip with his tongue, flicking lightly, teasingly against his upper lip, until Tim growled in annoyance and captured Kon's tongue with his teeth. He could feel Kon grinning as he kissed him.

And it was still irritating that Tim only came up to his chin, but-- not _too_ irritating. Tim stretched up onto his toes, Kon slouched a little, and things evened out.

They kissed until they were both breathless. Resting his forehead against Tim's, Kon murmured, "I have no freaking idea what I'm doing here, man. I just-- I don't want to fuck things up."

"Neither do I." Tim rubbed his palm against the prickly-soft buzzed hair at the side of Kon's head. "I'm not very good at-- any of this."

"Fair enough. We'll figure it out together, okay?" Kon gripped one of Tim's hands, palm-to-palm, and, looking deep into his eyes, said very seriously, "Hand."

Tim's mouth quirked. "Hand," he agreed solemnly.

Kon grinned. "It's a deal."


End file.
